Music notes
by LovelessDuchess
Summary: Paper thin walls hides a hidden truth for those who are awake at night to hear.


It started out as an escape from home life. A way to disappear like a magic trick, hidden behind smoke and mirrors. Picking one of the hardest musical instruments to learn to play. The violin. His mother was delighted in the fact he caught on to it pretty fast. But was more happy with the fact that he spent more time at his teacher's house than at home. One less pair of eyes to hide her infidelity from. His father was disappointed in the fact his son's time was spent elsewhere. More to say his son attention was on other things beside him. Yet his father had no issues in signing the teacher's pay check or paying for the very best violin money could buy.

Now it's something to relax with. Losing himself in the music after a long day at work. Listening to the part of his soul he never share with anyone else. Only these walls of his cheap apartment knew what his soul and heart really looks like. Silent whispers of the lyric to the song that he swore was written for his family life. Only a few details were off.

He smokes cannabis in front of his parent, since he took it from his father stash. When Niki was high, he taught his son how to smoke it. Plus show him how to cooks it in food. That Niki slips to his wife, Kisa.

His mother was the one with the countless sluts. Too many faces and names Saruhiko couldn't keep track of all of them. She was the one who married into the Fushimi family for the money. Which was more or less there. Yet the perfect family photo and well kept front cover up the debts from Niki gambling and drug problem.

" _I hate that word 'problem'."_ Saruhiko remember his father's words to him when he was only five. Being held in his arms as they watch their bedroom burn up in flames. _"Problem can be solved. That's why they are called problems. So you can fix them. But I don't want to be 'fix' since I'm not broken. Wanna know what I have to say to this. Fuck it all."_

Hearing Niki's voice in his head. The louder Saruhiko played. Not caring if it's the dead of night. Pouring his soul into every string.. Every note. Until he finish the song.

"Perfect until they see through the curtains of lies." Taking a short break to drink from his water bottle. His sharp ears picked up a soft sound of someone else up at this ungodly hour.

Leaning into the wall that carried the tone he was just fooling around with just a moment ago. A bass guitar echoes sound pretty good. Whoever was playing knew what they were doing.

In the apartment beside the one that hides the dark past of the kind yet broken soul. Held its own secrets to tell.

Another story of a boy, who moved away from home to just get away from it all or so he said when he was only fourteen and drop out of school. His single mom loved him. But need to look after her other children and new husband more. They parted on good terms and once in a blue moon Misaki, would return to see them.

He learned how to play with a friend, who was learning how to play out of boredom. Yet Misaki kept it going. Liking the sound of the bass guitar more than the acoustic guitar his friend was learning to play at the time.

Misaki never wrote any songs himself, only fooled around with cover of songs he knew or heard at the bar he work at night.

Being Monday night into Tuesday morning, HOMRA was closed. Being too restless to fall sleep. Misaki was laying in his bed, reading over an action sport magazine. When he finally heard his neighbor beside him. Misaki always believes no one actually lived there since he never heard anyone moving around there, nor did he see lights on. Until tonight that is.

Misaki didn't know the song that was being played nor knew what the instrument was being played since he didn't know the sound. The only thing he knew was it felt sad..as he felt a tear fall on his hand.

Working around all kinds of music for open mic night or whatever was played on the old jukebox. Misaki knew a lot of music. But this tune ripped his heart out all at once. Only hearing a few notes, he picks up his guitar and follow along until he got the tune down. Slowly and softly playing beside the person next door. Until their two musical instruments were in perfect sync with each other.

Jamming together until pounding on their doors and screaming curse words, stop the fun for the night.

The time gave Saruhiko just enough time to sleep until it was time for work. Nothing really changes or so out of routine for the twenty year old. More or less time to sleep, breakfast with an energy drink. Out of the routine was printing off the music sheet with lyrics from the song he was playing last night. Small, simple note. "You play well." Sliding it under the apartment next to his door. Before leaving for work.

Dealing with a long eight hour plus work shifts. Due to a co-worker not wanting to actually work. Yes less work for them, yet more work for him. Dealing with even louder people on the bus ride home. Walking into his apartment building to the sight of a father with his handful with screaming kids. His face reads 'where the hell is your mother?'

Checking his mail just add to his misery as there was a letter from his mother. Not bothering to open it. Just quickly writing 'return to sender' on it. Before sticking it back to be returned. Walking up the stair, turning the corner to see a reusable bag hanging from his door. "Thanks, you play really awesome. I never smell anything cooking over there. So here some instant noodle. Maybe we can jam together again? I'm only off on Monday nights." Was the note pinned to the bag.

Sadly, there will never be anything cook in his tiny kitchen. For two reasons. It was pointless to cook for one person. Second, Saruhiko couldn't boil water even if his life depends on it.

Sliding one last note under the door before entering his place. A simple, straight to the point note. "Maybe."

A single 'maybe' turn out to be an every Monday night event. Jamming to the songs they are swapping under each others door. Work schedule never letting them to meet in person. Only the paper thin walls between their personal space let them share their music together.

 **A/n: I did the best I could editing this, but there might be some mistakes. I'm sorry for that.**


End file.
